Disarm
by allsevendwarves
Summary: Sometimes, the only way to conquer the enemy is to first surrender one's own arms. (Elsa/Hans)
1. Chapter 1

**Expanded Summary:** Elsa must travel to the Southern Isles for Hans' trial and sentencing. The last thing she expects after her arrival is for one of his brothers to ask the unthinkable of her: to grant Hans her pardon and spare him his life. What will it take to convince Elsa to push past the pain and hurt Hans caused and grant him a second chance?

_The killer in me is the killer in you._

_I send this smile over to you._

-The Smashing Pumpkins, _Disarm_

**ONE**

Raindrops from the fresh shower that had just fallen rested lightly on the crimson petals of roses past which they had just ridden. Momentarily crystallized, they reflected the white moonlight and twinkled like tiny diamonds, as if each one had been sewn onto a perfect place on each petal by a most delicate and careful hand.

This was what had first triggered the memory.

It had snuck up on her, like the wisp of a scent that had not been detected in years, and Elsa was startled. She blinked and sat up straight, for a moment uncertain as to whether the image had, in fact, been a memory and not some trick of her imagination.

Anna and Kristoff slept on the seat across from her, unaware of her silent unease. Anna's head rolled and jerked on his shoulder with every stone the carriage trotted over; Kristoff's was cocked back, nose pointing to the carriage ceiling. Both mouths hung open, each dripping drool just off the side.

Elsa leaned out the window, watching the roses with hungry curiosity, as if scribbled upon one she could somehow find an explanation. Something to further expand the knowledge of her vision.

A shadow fell across her face and she looked up. One of the guards riding alongside the carriage on his horse leaned over. "Is everything all right, Your Majesty?"

It took her a few seconds to gather her thoughts and reply that yes, everything was just fine. He assured her that the castle gates would be just past the bridge up ahead, perhaps suspecting that she was impatient to arrive. Elsa didn't bother correcting him, no matter how wrong his assumptions might be; she thanked him and retreated into the carriage, gaze still fixed on the landscape outside the window.

She was exhausted. And yet, as much as every muscle in her body begged for rest, her stomach twisted at the thought of where she'd be sleeping tonight.

She was certain that the bed would be comfortable, that she would be provided with the softest, warmest sheets. Dinner would be a feast fit to feed whole towns. There would be servants at her beck and call—people ready to drop what they were doing at a moment's notice to satisfy her every whim.

Yes, as Queen, she could expect to be lavished with the best of everything. But this was no luxury vacation. Elsa would have quickly traded all the comfort and extravagance that awaited her for a hard, damp spot under the bridge just to avoid spending time with the Southern Isles' royal family. She would swim her way back to Arendelle if it meant not having to come face-to-face once more with the man who had, hardly a month ago, attempted to murder her and her sister.

But that was a futile wish. Even if she could manage to avoid him in real life, he would surely continue to appear in her dreams.

Up ahead, the castle spires loomed in the distance, reaching up to pierce black skies.

What an odd time, she thought, to be remembering a fair-haired girl kneeling in a shadowed garden, holding a rose made of ice while an auburn haired boy peered on from behind a row of iron bars.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Just swooping in real quick to give my beta **fluggerbutter** a shout out and a MASSIVE thank you for helping out with this fic! *round of applause* :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hey everyone! Just wanted to take a quick second to thank everyone who took the time out to read this. This is definitely going to be a multi-chapter story (started out as a one-shot plot bunny and somehow grew out of control as that idea developed as it seems to happen with any short story I attempt to write). Okay, I think that's it for today – hope you guys enjoy! (And don't forget to leave a review! They're the second best things in the world next to chocolate.)

**TWO**

Elsa had been relieved when the dinner feast had been over. Like a drowning person scurrying to escape the waters that engulfed her, she had retreated to her room which, though unfamiliar, had come as a gust of fresh air to her lungs.

His eyes had been everywhere. They had peered at her from time to time from across the dinner table in that same shade of vivid green and even in hues of blues, browns and grays. All eleven pairs had taken turns testing her self-control – every single glance a tear in the fabric of her sanity. Elsa had never avoided looking so many people in the eyes before.

Twelve brothers but Elsa had counted only eleven. When she didn't find her would-be killer in the eyes of some, she found him in the smile of others, in the flow of their movements, the timbre of their voices. Certainly the physique of the eldest five – Jon, Jakob, Joris, Jorg and Josef – was entirely their own. They were far larger than the other leaner six, with hair a chestnut brown as opposed to the auburn red of the rest.

Prince Jon in particular seemed to Elsa like someone she'd read about in Greek Mythology books. A being with an internal power that showed in his physique, with a torso roughly the size of a redwood tree trunk. He looked as though he could crush a person with just one hand. When he walked, the swing of his arms was a constant threat to anyone standing nearby. The boom of his voice was almost as large as him, and able to silence you with a single whisper.

What Elsa found most surprising was his jolly disposition – at least, for a man of such threatening physique. As the immediate heir to the throne and the current acting king since his father had fallen ill, he seemed far too comfortable with his subordinates. His constant jesting and teasing, whether it be with a royal or with a servant, disconcerted her. She was having a difficult time correlating the two characteristics, as if something were missing in the middle to hold it all together. As such, she found herself holding tight to her guard in spite of all signs pointing to safety, though not without a slight sense of guilt.

He had been nothing but courteous to herself, Anna, Kristoff and their whole party of servants and guards. He had even arranged for a welcoming feast to be thrown in their honor. But Elsa had found it difficult to laugh with sincerity when he tried to make light of their current situation. His brother was on trial for trying to murder her and her sister – did that not shame him in the slightest way?

She told herself she was being unfair. But in her defense, she had only met one member of his family before and he'd left a tainted impression. It was only natural that she should have a hard time warming up to what seemed to be the friendliest of his relatives. Although, his constant teasing and so-called playful requests for her to procure some ice for his cup left a bad taste in her mouth. But as everyone around the table laughed, Elsa couldn't decide if she was simply being paranoid and taking things too personally.

She had counted the seconds until she parted with them all. And yet, even with all the comfort she could ever need in her room, she'd been unable to harvest sleep, and so, like every night for the last thirteen years, Elsa rose out of bed to get acquainted with the brand new night.

The fresh cut grass prickled the soles of Elsa's feet, her shadow dragging slanted behind her as she moved across the grounds of the castle. Solitary midnight walks were becoming a habit with her. She had been a slave to insomnia for many years now, as it came without fail every night to raise her from her already frail sleep. And like someone imprisoned for longer than they have known freedom, she had grown to accept her incarcerator and welcome it as an old friend, following it by the hand without fuss to wherever it may lead. At least now she could step outside for a meditative stroll.

Although one might argue that she rose on purpose, simply to bathe in the velvety glow of the moonlight. Such a silly thing to crave. But to Elsa there would never be enough moonlit nights to make up for all the ones she had already lost.

Over the last few weeks she had developed an almost childlike curiosity for nature. It was as if she had been given her senses back, touching, smelling, hearing, tasting and seeing everything without apprehension. A dead soul revived, dug out from the murkiest depths of Hades' realm.

She followed a pebbled path that cut along the side of the castle, walking in intervals over the path and the grass that surrounded it, ensuring that her feet experienced both.

At the end of the path stood a long black iron fence, spikes turned upward toward the skies. All along it were bushes of red roses that paled in the moonlight, standing guard. Beyond the fence, a lake glittered silver and white, stretching out towards the black hills on the other side.

Elsa hadn't made it all the way to the end. Halfway there she'd stopped, struck – by what she wasn't sure. There was nothing particularly alluring about this view. It was an ordinary fence separating the castle grounds from the lake and the grounds beyond.

But a sudden nostalgia gripped her by the throat and left her almost breathless. Inside her head there was a ticking – a soundless pulsing, rushing along images that refused to come, that perhaps didn't really exist.

She had taken just one step forward when from the darkness a voice rang out and halted her.

"Queen Elsa?"

She turned, looked over her shoulder and watched in silence as a tall man emerged from behind a pine tree that stood on the other side of the pebbled path. There was little else that she paid attention to when the two green eyes came into view, sparkling bright even in the darkness. The auburn hair, the pale skin, translucent in the moonlight, blurred with everything else around her. The eyes had been enough.

Her breath caught in her chest and she took several steps back. It was him. He who had haunted her fragmented sleep, every night rebirthing her sins into her subconscious.

_"Your sister's dead…because of you."_

"Don't come any closer!" she yelled, still retreating.

"Queen Elsa—" he began, a pleading hand stretching out towards her.

Panic coursed through her like cracks on ice – each fissure multiplying, branching out; creating a web that overpowered her senses. All she had to go on was the frantic beating of her heart.

It was happening again. She felt the surge crawling just beneath her skin, forcing its way out. There would be nothing she could do stop it.

"Please, let me explain. I'm—"

"I said stay away!"

One last step backward and Elsa felt the sharp ends of twigs and branches digging into her back. With a quick glance over her shoulder and a sharp intake of breath, she found herself pressed against the hedge that enclosed the garden. As her hands flattened against it, and as the realization that she was trapped finally sank in, it happened.

A flash of white and the hedge turned into a wall of ice.

Elsa stepped away, recoiling, staring in horror at her unintentional creation. It had been weeks since she'd had an incident, since she'd last lost control. Had she been a fool to think she'd never have to worry again?

"Queen Elsa…"

Elsa turned startled to find her pursuer closing in. Just as he was about to reach out for her, she turned and ran, the tips of his fingers grazing the sleeve of her robes as she slipped past.

Her harried breath blared in the stillness of the night. She kept running though she didn't know where to. Up ahead stood the fence in the way of her escape. But how could she run and leave Anna behind? She had to warn her in some way, tell her it had all been a trick.

She looked over her shoulder at her assailant who still chased after her. However, that one moment of distraction cost her, as the hem of her nightgown caught on a rose bush, tugging her back and bringing her down to her knees. The ground beneath and around her became covered in ice the instant her hands met it. Behind her, her pursuer slipped and fell with a thud. While he groaned, Elsa struggled to set herself free.

"Queen Elsa, please – I'm not Hans!"

It took Elsa a moment to register what he said. Her chest still heaved as she slowly turned to look at him.

He was propped on all fours, gingerly moving towards her. If Elsa hadn't been so frightened she would've laughed to see a grown man so awkwardly crawling his way to her. Perhaps if she lived to see daylight she would laugh about it with Anna.

She shifted back and held out her hand in defense. "Don't try anything funny – I don't want to hurt you."

"Neither do I," he replied. At last he arrived and knelt before her, reaching forward with one hand again. Elsa held her breath and braced herself for whatever was to come next.

He reached into the rosebush and with one hard tug he tore her silk robe from the branches. He handed the torn fabric to her. "I'm sorry, it was either that or ripping the bush out. I figured this was easier."

Elsa took the hem into her hand quietly and then ventured a good look up at his face.

Yes, the eyes were identical. But in the hysteria that had taken over her moments before she had failed to see the difference in the bone structure of his face. Hans' face had had that plumpness and pinkness of youth in his cheeks; the fresh, bright awareness in the eyes of a person who had entered the world not that long ago. The cheekbones of the man before her were far more defined, more evolved with maturity. There were definitely more lines around his mouth and eyes.

Upon closer inspection, the eyes themselves had a different intensity. Identical though they might be, this man's eyes seemed duller and worn out – they had seen far more than Hans' eyes had. Perhaps too much.

"I'm sorry, Queen Elsa, could you…" he said throwing the ice covered ground a timid glance. "I'm not very good at keeping my balance on two legs when on ice."

"Oh!" said Elsa, her cheeks coloring. "Y-yes, of course."

She placed her hand over the sheet of ice and channeling her strength, she pulled the ice back into her, the grounds becoming grassy again as it shrank.

"Thank you," said he as he pushed himself up unto his feet. Once erect, he bowed over holding his hand out for her to take.

Finally convincing herself that he wasn't Hans and that he meant no harm, Elsa took his hand and was quickly on her feet.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you, it really wasn't my intention. Sometimes I forget how very alike Hans and I look."

"Which brother are you?"

"Number twelve," he said, then added with a small smile, "although, I'd prefer if you called me Gregor."

Elsa smiled feebly in appreciation for his attempt at humor. She felt it was exceedingly kind of him to jest after what she had just put him through.

"I don't remember seeing you at the feast," she said.

"That's because I wasn't there."

"Oh?"

"I was down in the dungeons, keeping my brother company," Gregor explained.

Elsa's face opened up with understanding before she cast her eyes down.

"I hope you'll forgive me for not being there to welcome you, but I couldn't help feeling guilty being up there celebrating your visit while he remained locked up alone down there. To be honest, I don't think I would've enjoyed myself very much."

"No, I understand," said Elsa.

"My other brothers don't quite care so much."

"Are you and Prince Hans close then?"

"I suppose you could say that," said Gregor. "I understand him better than anyone else. Better than my older brothers for certain. They all say I'm too soft."

Elsa's mouth pulled into a tight line – a non-committal half-smile, half-grimace. While she wanted to appeal to the softer side of Gregor, she also couldn't forget that the man he spoke about had tried to kill her and her sister. There wasn't much that she couldn't say on the subject that wouldn't be blunt hypocrisy or hurtful.

"Please, don't think for a moment that I'm condoning any of his actions – especially his recent ones," Gregor began, almost as if reading her mind. "But you do understand he's my brother. He's more to me than the sum of his actions, good or bad. He's the boy I threw a ball around with as kids, the one I taught how to ride a horse, the only one he cried to when our mother passed away. I know it's hard to see it, but there's a human being in there—"

"Please, Prince Gregor," said Elsa. "I really don't think this is the time or the moment for this conversation. I also don't think I'm the appropriate person to be saying these things to."

"Oh, but you are just the perfect person," said Gregor.

Elsa looked up at him quizzically.

"Queen Elsa, I don't know how much you know about Hans' options, but they basically come down to two: after his trial he will either be sentenced to exile at the isle of Muros, where our vilest of criminals are sent off to. The other option…"

Elsa waited and watched as Gregor straightened up as if building up courage.

"The other option, Queen Elsa, is the death penalty."

Elsa frowned. "Surely your brothers wouldn't sentence one of their own to death."

Gregor scoffed. "You wouldn't think so, would you?"

Elsa watched him skeptically, unsure that she understood what he was trying to say, unsure of how much she could actually trust him.

"I assume you're up at this late hour for the same reason I am," said Gregor. "A loyal friend I like to call insomnia?"

She nodded, not sure where he was taking this.

"Well, will you join me for a stroll, while I tell you a long story?"

Elsa didn't move though chaos seemed to erupt inside her. She swallowed as she tried to summon a quick reply from the hundreds of panicking thoughts that had just broken out inside her head.

"I'm sorry…I don't know if that's such a good idea," she said, squeezing one hand in the other.

"I promise you, Queen Elsa, it's just a walk. I think you'll appreciate me shedding some light on a topic to which I'm quite sure you still have many questions. If at any moment you feel threatened—well, you do have ice powers and I'm completely unarmed."

Elsa watched him for a moment as she considered this. At last deciding that he was right and she didn't have anything to lose, she conceded.

She joined him as they slowly made their way down the pebbled path, headed in the direction of the iron fence.

"I'm going to go ahead and assume that since you've only recently become queen that you're still somewhat new to the ways of this world of monarchies and power. You still don't know what people are capable of to get it when it's dangled in front of their noses," Gregor began, as he walked at a steady pace, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I daresay, I have _some_ idea," said Elsa.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye and saw him cast his eyes down. He pressed his lips together in that same noncommittal gesture she'd made before.

Feeling her gut sink with guilt, she retracted, "I'm sorry…I don't mean to—"

"Please, Your Majesty, don't apologize," said he. "While I'm willing to advocate for my brother, I'm not about to pretend he's a saint."

Elsa turned her gaze down to her feet.

"You're right, you do have some firsthand experience with this ruthless game of power," he said. "Where to begin then?"

They walked in silence a few moments, Gregor watching his feet as they went. He looked up and smiled—that kind, modest smile, too pure and convincing to be real. At least for someone who looked so much like Hans. Elsa turned her eyes away, lest she allow herself to be fooled again.

"I suppose the beginning is just as good place as any," he said. "Let's see…well, there's always been somewhat of a divide between my five eldest brothers and the rest of us. You see Jon, Jakob, Joris, Jorg and Josef are our half brothers, born to my father's first wife – a woman he was forced to marry while he was still just a prince because she was of noble blood – or shall I say, _acceptable_ blood.

"But she passed away after my father became king...by then he had the power to do whatever he wanted and marry whomever he chose. So he sought out my mother – a poor peasant woman and the only woman he'd ever loved. He finally married her and made her his queen. She bore him eight children, myself and Hans included.

"My five eldest brothers were never keen on our mother, never quite accepted her. I don't suppose it's an easy truth to swallow when you find out your father never loved your mother and has brought her replacement in to live with you. I suppose that contempt against her stretched out to her eight children. They were never affectionate with any of us…even in the rough ways that brothers have with each other. There was never a moment of bonding, of true kinship between us. They always made sure the division was tangible. That whatever we were, we were nothing. Five of them would rule this kingdom before any of us. They were the true royalty of the Southern Isles. We were simply unfortunate accidents, superfluous in this world."

"It was eight of you against five of them though," said Elsa. "Did that not matter?"

Gregor shook his head. "Not in the least bit. You see, the rift between the five eldest isn't the only one that exists."

Elsa frowned. "What do you mean?"

Gregor exhaled before continuing. "I mean that the six directly before me aren't fond of Hans…or me for that matter, for always sticking my hand in the fire for him.

"The seven of us were close, in spite of the five eldest casting us off. Our mother was attentive, always encouraging us to see past their estrangement. And then one day, when I was ten years old Hans was born and everything changed.

"He was my mother's favorite. It was obvious. I think with seven grown boys she was glad to have a baby once again in her arms. The difference was always clear. Whether she meant it to be or not. I don't think she did. The others, however…

"They picked on him because they were jealous. And my mother was so lenient with him. He could get away with anything. I think perhaps that's where he got his confidence and his recklessness. Somewhere in his mind he believed he could do whatever he wanted, never have to account for anything…he was so troublesome as a boy.

"You see the lake yonder? That iron fence wasn't always there. At the age of six he was playing by himself, took the boat out and tried to cross it on his own. He fell overboard and nearly drowned. My mother herself jumped in there to save him. Can you imagine, the Queen of the Southern Isles, drenched from head to foot, pulling her precious baby boy out of the lake. It was all anyone could talk about. The Queen reverting back to her peasant ways. That she went in to save her son was of no importance. Either way, she pulled Hans out of there herself. But that same day you could say he sentenced her to death.

"What happened?" Elsa asked.

"It was winter and the water was too cold. Hans survived, perhaps because he was younger. But my mother…she was older and not as strong…she fell ill…by the end of the week she was gone."

Gregor was staring out towards the lake, his brow slightly furrowed.

"I'm so sorry," said Elsa.

He gave her a weak smile. "It was a long time ago."

"Not for your brothers, though. They blame him, don't they?"

"Yes," he said in a grim tone. "Their childish jealousy turned into a lifelong resentment. First he made her neglect them and then he took her away completely…I think somehow they forget that he lost her too that day…

"And now they see his sentencing as an opportunity," he concluded. "Somehow all of them have united against him. The five eldest as the highest rulers claim he's brought shame to our kingdom with what he did in Arendelle. They say that treason against one of our greatest allies is treason against our own crown. They've been trying to pin on him the acts of rebellion and anarchy that have erupted throughout the kingdom since my father fell ill, and now they finally have their golden ticket. The six that follow echo that claim whether they believe it or not, because they seek, I don't know, compensation for the mother they lost…

"For the first time in our lives our half-brothers and our other six brothers are on the same side. After all these years of segregation, they've come together over this one morbid cause. My father has no idea. He's hardly ever lucid anymore. Perhaps he was never the most nurturing of parents, but I'm sure he wouldn't allow this. Jon as his direct heir is taking advantage of the situation, fueling my brothers' enthusiasm by granting them positions in his immediate circle and promises of grandeur once he's king."

"Hasn't he offered you anything?"

"He's tried but I've refused. I simply try to stay out of his way. Best to let him think I'm harmless."

Elsa watched him warily. "Aren't you?"

Gregor gave her a small smile. "I am…unless I've got an important objective in mind and someone's trying to stop me from getting it."

Elsa inhaled sharply.

"Queen Elsa," said Gregor, stepping in front of her so that they stood face to face. "I realize that what I'm about to ask you is really too much, but I must…I cannot let this opportunity pass me by."

"Prince Gregor—"

"Please…I trust you have a kind, forgiving heart…"

"Prince Gregor, I—"

"…and I know that the actions of my brother are inexcusable..."

"—I really don't—"

"Queen Elsa," said Gregor gravely, his tired eyes wearing more by the second. "He's my brother. He's all I've got. One word from you to Jon and Hans could live…a pardon from the victim to the High Judge is all that is needed…he doesn't need to go free…all I ask is that you let him live…"

Elsa stared plainly into his face, downtrodden by the eyes of a broken hopeless man that was shedding his last ounce of pride in front of her to ask for the unthinkable.

She swallowed through a lump in her throat and brought her eyes down to his chin. She was the snow queen, and yet how difficult she found it at times to be heartless and cold.

"Prince Gregor," she began plainly. "I'm terribly sorry for your pain. I'm sorry that you're losing your brother. I'm sorry for your own family's shortcomings. I'm sorry for this whole situation in general. I never asked for any of this as I'm sure neither did you. Perhaps if Prince Hans' assailment had been only towards myself I might be more inclined to make some allowances. But the moment he deceived and left my sister for dead he took away that privilege for himself. Perhaps this is something he should've thought about before coming into Arendelle and attempting to kill us both. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Elsa turned, her robes swinging around her, her courage teetering like a lose icicle inside her. However, before she could take a step forward, she felt Gregor's fingers wrap firmly around her upper arm.

She turned in shock. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

"Haven't you ever done anything wrong in your life?" he demanded, a slight vigor returning to his tired eyes.

"Prince Gregor, you are outstepping your boundaries!"

"Have you never wronged people before? Have you never made such a chaos of things that everyone wanted you dead?"

"I never purposely attempted to kill anyone!"

"And in your mind there's no possibility that perhaps Hans, too, made a mistake? Have you ever considered that maybe he, too, was desperate? Is a man not allowed to lose control, lose his mind once in his lifetime?"

"My situation was entirely different," said Elsa, though she couldn't fully look Gregor in the eyes as she said this. "Your brother is a selfish, greedy monster. Perhaps you would be wise to distance yourself from him before you find yourself dragged into his messes."

"And did your sister distance herself from you when there was no one left to believe in your innocence? Have you forgotten the importance of one person's trust in you?"

Elsa was used to the cold and yet this was unusual to her. This cold lump in the pit of her stomach that left her speechless, wiped clean of retorts.

Gregor watched her a second longer, perhaps searching her face for the hint of tenderness Elsa had long ago learned to hide. She turned her own gaze away to the hard ground, her stony expression unflinching.

At last released his grip on her and stepped back, his face grim, stripped of the optimistic, the gentle kindness she'd first noticed on him gone.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," said Gregor. "I should've known it was too much. I'll trouble you no more."

He bowed his head slightly before turning and heading in the opposite direction.

Elsa watched him for a while as his figure became smaller. She finally turned and wrapping her arms around herself she headed back into the castle, shivering ever so slightly as she cut through that warm summer night.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

A light frost had slowly crept up about one quarter of the way on the four wooden legs of Elsa's chair. No one had seemed to notice, perhaps due to the wooden divider that separated her, Anna, and the Dignitaries from the rest of the room. Even Elsa herself remained oblivious, not even noting how tightly her hands squeezed the end of each armrest. A slight chill lingered in the air around her, but those sitting nearby wouldn't have noticed. The atmosphere in the courtroom was cold all on its own; no one thought the drop in temperature unusual.

Across the room were eleven seats, six of them vacant. On the other five Elsa recognized Joris, Jakob, Jorg, Josef and Gregor. The first four remained attentive to the document Prince Jon was reading from the High Judge's stand. Gregor kept his eyes fixedly on his lap, stare as empty as the seats around him. He had looked up once and caught her eye, but had then looked away with such indifference that Elsa would've preferred if he'd blatantly glared at her. And yet, in spite of the guilt she felt at Gregor's taciturn disposition, she couldn't help wishing that it were the biggest of her worries.

She had to keep reminding herself to take deep breaths. Sometimes it felt like she hadn't been breathing for several minutes at a time. The muscles in her neck and back were all cramped and she fidgeted to try and relax them, but she might as well have been trying to wring out a block of ice. The stress she was under was almost unbearable. The maniacally bobbing foot under her chair was her only form of release. And what was it all for? No amount of tension was going to help her avoid the inevitable.

"Bring out the accused," said Prince Jon, lifting his eyes off the document, removing his glasses from his face.

Elsa had kept her gaze down as five figures emerged from a door to her right. The cold surged beneath her skin as she dug her fingernails into the armrests of the chair. The moment she'd been dreading since receiving the summons to appear at the trial had finally come. And though she had tirelessly reassured herself day in and day out that when the moment came she'd be in control, she knew now that she had been a fool to believe it.

She knew the second she laid eyes on him she would erupt with unbounded rage or fear. Either one of those two emotions would take command of her and whip at her in such a manner that she would find herself isolated inside her own mind with little else to guide her. She would lose control again as she had last month in Arendelle, as she had last night in the gardens when Gregor had pursued her. It was the same every time – why should she expect it to turn out any differently now?

The only thing left to do was hope. She wasn't even quite sure for what. A miracle perhaps - but she had never been one to believe in any of that. Hope had done nothing but fail her countless times in the past. Still, to adamant hope she clung as she finally lifted her eyes.

What she saw caused her breath to catch in her chest. Something did whip at her, but it wasn't fear and it certainly wasn't rage. Her eyes widened and every organ inside her seemed to drop. Beside her, Anna let out a small gasp. Out of her peripherals, Elsa saw her raise her hand to her mouth.

Prince Hans of the Southern Isles stood in the center of four guards who guided him out by tugging at chains attached to the cuffs around his neck, hands and ankles. His head was lowered and his shoulders slumped, the loud drag of the chains cutting through the low rumbling that had overcome the crowd in the courtroom.

His once neat and glistening auburn hair was now dull and disheveled. His once rosy skin had obtained an anemic, greenish pallor to it – or at least the spaces of his face that weren't covered with scruffy facial hair did. What had once been a crisp white naval suit was now reduced to a pair of trousers and blouse both of which were so stained with dirt and mud they had long lost any hope of becoming white again. The lustrous black boots that had once caught the light of her palace's chandelier with every turn he'd made on the dance floor were gone. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles now dragged himself across the sparkling marble floors of the courtroom on soiled bare feet.

Elsa was revolted in a way she hadn't expected. It was the very essence of his being that she was supposed to hate. And yet, somehow, that hatred seemed to fade into the background, allowing his current condition to take center stage. She seemed to fight a swelling emotion inside her, tender around the edges, fingering at parts of her still left unguarded.

Fearing that instinct would surely rule out cognitive thought, she turned her eyes down and avoided looking at him again.

"Prince Hans," said Prince Jon. "You are hereby accused of treason on several counts against the crown of Arendelle and the Southern Isles. One count of attempted murder against Her Majesty, Queen Elsa. One count of attempted murder against Her Highness, Princess Anna. One count for breaking the peace pact with our neighbors and loyal friends at Arendelle. Two counts for liberating captured rebels imprisoned for crimes against the crown of the Southern Isles—"

"You have no proof of that!"

The sound of his voice rang out across the courtroom sending chills down Elsa's spine. Its timbre touching a nerve inside her that kick-started her shallow breathing once more.

"Silence!" said Prince Jon. It was hard to tell whether he'd meant to yell it or had simply spoken it.

"You can't pin that on me, Jon! You can't just throw—"

"ENOUGH!"

This time he'd yelled it and Elsa thought she felt her chair vibrate with the reverberation.

"With or without those charges you still have enough on your plate to name you an enemy of the crown! What does proof matter at this point?" said Prince Jon, leaning over the stand. He sat back down, cast his eyes back to the scroll in front of him. Clearing his throat he asked, "How do you plead?"

Elsa waited for the sound that never came. Slowly, she looked up and saw Hans standing there, staring at the floor in front of him, eyebrows deeply furrowed. A red mark rimmed his neck where the edges of the cuff dug into it. On his pale skin it stood out like a choker of fresh scarlet blood.

"_How do you plead_?" Prince Jon repeated.

Hans' lips curled without looking at Jon. Elsa waited, hands now clasped on her lap, nails digging into her own flesh.

"Guilty."

Elsa blinked. She and Anna exchanged glances while the room around them erupted with a buzzing.

A small smile crept across Prince Jon's lips. "Thought better of it, didn't you?"

Hans didn't reply. He didn't even look up at Prince Jon as he spoke.

"Take him away," he ordered.

One of the guards tugged at the chain around Hans' neck. Hans pulled back for a moment grimacing, before the guard tugged again and he had no choice but to move.

Elsa wanted to look away but she couldn't. She found her gaze fixed on him as he neared her side of the room.

_"Why did you bring me here?"_

Cuffs had encased her hands once, too. Chains had once also bound her to the dungeons of her own palace. She had once also stood alone and terrified, desperate for a single soul willing to help, willing to understand.

_"I couldn't just let them kill you."_

Funny that he had once been that person. Funny that the same eyes that terrorized her now were the same ones that had once looked right into hers full of compassion. Funny that once he had been that gentle ally; a tiny amber burning in a desert of snow and ice.

But that had all been a lie.

As he passed her, he looked up and met her gaze.

In an instant Elsa's blood ran cold through her veins. There they were. The two eyes that haunted her dreams every single night.

"Elsa?" Anna whispered, placing a hand lightly on Elsa's wrist. Elsa tore her eyes away and turned to Anna who was looking down at her chair.

Elsa followed her gaze and found herself sitting on a chair of ice.

* * *

><p>Elsa and Anna's footsteps resounded on the cobbled grounds of the courtyard steady and isolated, like the somber beating of a funeral drum roll. They had said nothing to each other since leaving the hearing. Not for lack of words, for inside each of their minds thoughts were entangling and crisscrossing each other at lightning speed.<p>

In the pit of Elsa's stomach there was an emptiness stemmed from unfulfillment. She had walked out of the hearing more disturbed than when she'd gone in. She tried to pinpoint, within herself, a reason, something to clarify these feelings and put them to rest, without realizing that her mind kept dancing right around it, avoiding the core of the sore spot.

Of course, she could always count on Anna to put her feelings into precise words.

"He deserves this," Anna said, quietly but firmly, as if she were making up her mind. Elsa suspected she was talking to herself until she turned to look at her with her brow creased. "Right?"

Elsa searched her sister's face and when she couldn't find it in her to reply they both understood that there was no just answer to that question.

Gaining courage from Elsa's silent accord, Anna proceeded, "It's like, part of me is so angry…I just want him to rot in jail for the rest of his life. And yet at the same time…"

Elsa's breathing turned shallow and she crossed her arms tightly in front of her, half hoping Anna wouldn't finish her sentence.

"…seeing him like that…it's just not right…"

"He did ask for it," said Elsa, keeping her gaze strictly on the ground, speeding up just a notch. Even as she'd spoken the words had felt heavy and twisted on her tongue.

"Oh, I know," said Anna. She picked up her pace and wringing her fingers in one hand she continued, "I just…well, I guess it's just easier to stay angry at him when I couldn't see him…when I didn't know how they were treating him…"

Elsa stopped abruptly and turned to face her. "Well, Anna, what would you like them to do? Let him roam around the castle free and careless like he didn't do anything wrong?"

"I'm not saying—" Anna began.

"He tried to kill you. He used you and then he tried to kill you before trying to kill me."

"I know!" cried Anna defensively. "I'm not saying he should go free…I'm just saying…there's no joy in seeing him suffer…I thought there would be and there isn't…and that sucks."

Seeing her sister look so crestfallen and ambivalent touched a nerve within Elsa that quickly dissipated her defenses.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she finally surrendered. "I know."

They shared a look of empathy before setting off again. A few steps into their walk, Anna hooked her arm into Elsa's.

"So what now?" asked Anna.

Elsa's brow creased, gaze fixed on the ground as her stomach turned.

"There's something I haven't told you," she said.

"What is it?"

"I ran into Prince Gregor last night," explained Elsa. "He thinks it might be the death penalty for—"

She cut herself short and was startled at the discovery that his name was unpronounceable to her. Just four letters and it would cut her tongue and the pain would touch every nerve in her body.

Anna gasped. "Really?"

Elsa nodded dismally. "Prince Gregor assures me there is bad blood amongst almost all the brothers, a lot of it aimed towards—_him_."

"But why?" asked Anna incredulous.

Elsa then proceeded to fill her in on Gregor's account.

"That's terrible!" exclaimed Anna when Elsa finished.

"That's not all," said Elsa. They came to a halt and she turned to face her sister, pressing her lips tightly together, gathering the courage to tell her the rest. "He wants me to ask Prince Jon to spare him. He thinks, somehow, if I give him some form of pardon, Prince Jon will feel more inclined – or more pressure – to be lenient with the sentencing."

Anna nodded and blinked rapidly taking it all in. "Of course." After a pause, she asked, turning her optimistic, curious eyes towards her. "What did you say?"

Elsa felt forced to look away and she cleared her throat before speaking. "I told him I couldn't."

Anna's face dimmed ever so slightly, it was hardly noticeable with the naked eye. But Elsa saw the light of hope leave her eyes as her mouth opened into a small O.

"He tried to kill us, Anna," said Elsa. "Sometimes I can't even wrap my head around the idea that…if the circumstances had been different…if he'd gotten away with it…"

Her throat seemed to swell, closing up, blocking any more words from coming up.

Of course, Anna didn't know Elsa still saw her every night, frozen and cold, a lifeless statue, dead by her hand. She didn't know that she woke up with her bed sheets covered with flurries that fell from the ceiling, his voice still ringing in her ears, so perfectly clear that only seconds before waking she could swear he was right there in the room with her.

_"Your sister's dead…because of you."_

"Oh, Elsa," said Anna. "You don't have to explain it to me."

Anna gave her a small smile before hooking her arms into hers again. Slowly, they began their stroll once more.

"I just wish it didn't have to be this way."

"I know."

They walked on in silence coming to the edge of the courtyard. They stood high up on a hill at the edge, overlooking the island. Over in the distance the turquoise sea sparkled beneath the sunlight.

They stood silent for a long while. Until Anna finally spoke up dragging Elsa back out from within her own mind.

"But…what if…"

"What?" asked Elsa, turning to look at her.

"Well-just hear me out, all right?" Anna asked, casting her sister an insecure glance.

Elsa sighed and with worn resignation she said, "I'm listening."

"Imagine for a moment that it happens. They—well, you know—sentence him to death. Then we go back to Arendelle and everything's perfect and we're all happy and we move on with our lives and completely forget about Hans and about this whole ordeal."

Elsa frowned slightly.

"_But_," Anna continued, "what if that _doesn't_ happen? What if we go back to Arendelle and all we can think about is how this person is dead…because of us."

Elsa winced involuntarily.

"Do we really want to have to have that on our backs for the rest of our lives?" asked Anna. "I personally want to leave here and never have to think about Hans or the Southern Isles or anything having to do with him again…and I don't know if I can do that knowing I was responsible in some way for his death.

"Even though he's the worst jerk ever, he's still human. He must be if he means something to Prince Gregor. I don't blame him. I think…if it were us in this situation…if it were you about to be sentenced to death, I would do everything within my power to try and stop them."

Elsa thought about this for a moment. She thought of the dreams that already tormented her night after night, the words she kept hearing repeated in her head, the visions of Anna lifeless and frozen. What sort of new agony would her brain procure for her if she let Hans die when she had all the power to save him? She shuddered at the possibilities.

Maybe Anna was right. If allowing Hans to live didn't alleviate her daily wars, it might at least not make them worse.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply before replying. "All right. I'll see what I can do."

Anna beamed. "Oh, Elsa! You won't regret this. You'll see!"

Elsa looked up at her sister's face, already lit up with anticipation. Sometimes Elsa could swear Anna carried all the world's optimism inside her small frame. Though she suspected there couldn't be much of it, she prayed desperately that one day it wouldn't weigh her down.


End file.
